


all i know, you taught me

by monarchs



Category: The Social Network (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Financial Issues, M/M, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed, Slice of Life, Somehow sharing everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 00:49:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18981781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monarchs/pseuds/monarchs
Summary: Mark works graveyard shifts at a coffee shop and crashes on Eduardo's bed when day comes around, so he wouldn't have to pay rent.





	all i know, you taught me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [almostmagic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/almostmagic/gifts).



> This is for Allie. ♡
> 
> Kudos to @[zauqo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauqo/works) for her words of encouragement and for beta-reading my first wip draft.
> 
> This final draft isn't proofread though, so uh, all mistakes are mine. Sorry in advance.
> 
> Disclaimer: all characters here are based off of the ones in The Social Network. Not intended to portray any real person.

Sunshine poured into the coffee shop at 4:55AM, forcing Mark to stop and adjust the brightness of his screen. He stretched, yawned, saved his progress, and got to his feet.

In an hour, he would have to wipe the counters, sanitize the espresso machine, dust the slate under the grinder, stock the milk, update the tabs.

In two more hours, the next shift of baristas would come in and freak him out with blinding smiles, to which he never quite knew how to react, and he would wave awkwardly before packing his things, plugging his ears, putting real music on, and leaving through the backdoor. 

He would then head towards Eduardo's single at Eliot (Mark didn't have his own place, he was too cheap to consider paying rent), wriggle out of his work clothes, and finally crash on Eduardo's bed until his evening classes (Child Psych, Stats, Neurobio and some gut course) came around.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


_What day was it even?_

He was in Eduardo's bed, face buried in a pillow that smelled like organic lemongrass shampoo, when he realized he might have forgotten about the appointment at the Registrar's office. He cussed into the pillow, and Eduardo, who hadn't noticed Mark was back, shrieked and fell off the other side of the single bed.

"Shit. Is it time already?" Eduardo asked, rubbing his elbow, eyes squinting at his alarm clock. "Shit. Fuck." He scrambled to his feet only to trip over his blanket, which was stretched taut because one side was caught under Mark's weight. " _Mark_." He enunciated it like it was blasphemy.

Mark didn't honor him with an apology, nor much of an answer. 

Someone started banging enthusiastically on the door. 

Eduardo untangled himself. "Yeah, yeah, Dustin, good morning to you too," he screamed, but before he could get to his bathroom, the door of his room swung wide open, almost hitting Eduardo in the process.

"We're going to be late!" Dustin chirped, before gasping quite audibly, likely at the sight of Mark. "Whoa. I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" 

"Mark, you left the door unlocked?" Eduardo said, exasperated. "How many times—"

"Wait… why is Mark in your bed? N-naked? Did I just—"

"He's got boxers on," Eduardo pointed out, mildly irritated. He hesitated and shifted on his feet for a bit before pulling the blanket over Mark's bottom.

Mark turned his head so he could glare meanly at Dustin, and replied, in a very matter-of-fact tone, "Wardo won't let me use his bed if I'm wearing clothes I've already worn outside."

Dustin scowled at them both, caught between horror and disbelief. "I see," he said, then took a second to ponder Mark's words. "Is that— was that euphemism for something?" He made abstract gestures at the situation before giving up entirely and turning away. "You know what, I'll knock next time."

"Make yourself useful and close the door. There's a cold draft," Mark grumbled dismissively.

Eduardo heaved a heavy sigh before closing the door behind him with a click.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


Unfortunately, Mark could never really get enough sleep. Before long, Eduardo's alarm started screeching like a banshee, around 4PM, and Mark had to force himself out of bed, take a quick shower, and then start the day all over again.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


It was 11:39PM, just a little before his shift, when he was tapping angrily at the ATM machine, glowering at his account balance. The monthly stipend hadn't come in because he had forgotten to check in at the Registrar's on time.

Shit, he thought as he walked away with a deep frown. He was going to live off cake and coffee for a while again. 

While trying to think of alternatives, he remembered that Eduardo worked swing shifts this long weekend. Maybe Eduardo would be willing to spare him some of his hours. 

When Mark arrived however, pushing through the front door, he saw Eduardo talking with some girl customers, so Mark lowered his head, rounded the counter, grabbed for his work apron and tried putting it on quietly, turning his back at them.

His hands were a little fidgety from all the time he spent coding, so he couldn't quite tie his apron right. Before he knew it though, Eduardo had approached him from the back and tied it up for him. Mark turned around, a little mortified, but still managed to say a small _thanks_. 

The girl customers smiled at Mark politely before continuing their conversation with Eduardo, who let out a nervous laugh after one of the girls had whispered something. 

Mark started the espresso grinder, to drown out their voices, only to find that it needed to be redialed in. He pushed off the excess from his handle and screwed the portafilter into the espresso machine.

He glanced at Eduardo and the girls, wondering when they'd be done. It was already twenty minutes past the time Eduardo should be getting off work. He had a game theory exam tomorrow morning. Mark didn't suppose Eduardo really wanted to chit chat; it was clear that he was just staying behind to be polite. He replied curtly almost, a tight smile on his face.

The girls were relentless anyways. 

Mark turned to Eduardo, a hand on his arm, saying, "hey, if you have this much spare time, could you show me how to dial in the grinder again?"

Eduardo blinked twice, and then nodding profusely, said, "yeah, yeah. Okay. Sorry. Sure."

The girls finally excused themselves, feigning guiltiness, as if they hadn't realized that they had been hogging Eduardo all this time. Mark gave them a dirty look before following Eduardo to the grinder.

Mark actually knew how to dial one in. It really didn't take a genius. So when the girls were out of sight, Mark batted Eduardo's hand away before taking control of the grinder. Eduardo relaxed his shoulders, rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand, and exhaled before murmuring, "thanks, Mark."

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


Eduardo must have noticed the coffee shop takeaway box on his desk when he came back in the afternoon. When Mark woke up, there was a chicken salad, sandwich, and juice box in its stead, and a post-it note that read _remember to drink water_.

Mark tightened and loosened his jaw before crumbling the paper. He took the juice box and started drinking. He looked around the room, and, feeling mildly ashamed and a little warm from the sunlight, grabbed some of Eduardo's clothes and his own and shoved them in the laundry basket. He searched in his pockets for coins he 'borrowed' from the tip jar at the coffee shop, before leaving the room with the hamper, hunching his shoulders when he passed by some of the neighboring students.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


Girls were always impressed by latte art, and that would be something Mark would never quite understand.

Especially when they couldn't even tell apart what was good latte art and what wasn't. 

Mark was at the corner table of the coffee shop, working on coding TheFacebook before his shift came around at midnight. Eduardo was with Christy, the newbie, and he was teaching her how to free-pour a heart, since she was failing leaves colossally, from what Mark saw from the cups two tables down. Still though, the customers (who looked and spoke like pretentious Quadlings, and whose boyfriends were probably in final clubs) took pictures of the ugliest cups of cappuccino Mark had ever seen, with their stupid state-of-the-art Motorola phones.

"The hottest baristas always make the most beautiful art," one of them said, articulating every syllable like she was talking to a five-year-old, while glancing in Eduardo's direction in an all-but-subtle way.

"I know right!" the other said, giggling uncontrollably.

Mark felt like his IQ could drop just listening to them swoon and coo. 

Eduardo clearly didn't make those. It didn't take a microscope to tell, either. The color of the espresso and milk mix was off, and there were big pockets of bubbles in their drinks, and Eduardo would never etch to cover up mistakes. 

Besides which, even if he did, the patterns were so distasteful, Mark bet a blind person could do better.

(Those were undeniably Christy's failures. 100%. 1000%.)

Mark rested his head against his arm and looked over in the direction of the bar. Eduardo was frowning at Christy's milk pitcher, clearly not impressed at all, and perhaps a hint impatient too. Mark sneered. Eduardo was always a little anal about milk frothing. 

Uncannily, Eduardo looked up, meeting Mark's gaze. Mark smiled briefly, pretending not to be too startled. Eduardo smiled back before mouthing something that looked a little like _long night_ before looking at Christy's pitcher again in exasperation.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


Long nights were nights when Eduardo didn't have time to stick around after his shift.

Not that Mark would ever tell him that. Not that Mark was even sure what that meant.

He remembered when Eduardo used to teach him how to free-pour. Remembered the way Eduardo's fingers had been relaxed yet firm on the pitcher, hand steady as he dragged the pour down the middle.

Mark grabbed a cup and poured a leaf pattern along the side.

He stared at it tiredly, watched as the small bubbles popped as seconds ticked by, as silence fell across the streets outside, the last of drunk students scurrying home.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


After midterms, Eduardo started hanging around during graveyard shifts again. Mark let him put his music whenever he was there, though his songs somehow always made Mark want to sleep.

"How's your website going?" Eduardo asked from the counter as he was cleaning the dust off the coffee jar lids.

Mark didn't stop coding, didn't even look up from his screen. "All right."

Eduardo exhaled. "Have you been sleeping at all?"

"I'm fine."

"That's not what I asked."

"That's all I'm willing to answer. How were your midterms?"

Eduardo placed his hands on the counter and looked at Mark a little more humorlessly. "Mark, you know I'm willing to help, if you asked, right?"

Eduardo was already helping a lot, letting Mark crash in his bed every day without paying some sort of rent.

"Mark. I know you didn't get the stipend for this month, and that you failed your Neurobio test," Eduardo said, as gently as possible. 

Mark finally stopped typing, and after a hot moment, asked, "is this why you've been sticking around?"

"What do you mean?"

"Because you want me to rest during my shift, while you watch over the shop, unpaid? Thanks for rubbing it in my face that I'm poor, and failed a test. Who even told y—"

"Billy— but he means well! And no! No, I know. I— I mean, I think, you should rest, definitely but that wasn't—"

Mark looked back at his screen, hit ctrl+s, and opened his email inbox. Time for him to use the dirt he had on Billy.

Eduardo looked guilty for a second before just giving up on beating around the bush, and saying, "Mark, you're overworked."

"Acute observation, Wardo," Mark replied, weary. "Did you want a golden star sticker for it?"

"Your eyes are like, three quarters closed."

"Yours are just disproportionately big, has anyone ever told you that?"

"You're not winning the argument by changing subjects."

"You're not sleeping either while you're here with me," Mark countered.

"I don't have class tomorrow, it got cancelled, I can afford staying here—"

"Well, I'm sorry I can't afford it."

Eduardo's expression softened. He sighed deeply and placed the last of the coffee jars on the shelves. Then, he walked around the counter and approached Mark's table. He grabbed a water pitcher and filled Mark's glass, and that was that.

(The quiet didn't help with staying awake, and Mark almost wished Eduardo would talk to him again, but he was feeling more embarrassed by the minute, to break the silence, to go back on the subject.)

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


(Mark dreamed that Eduardo carried him back to Eliot, the next morning. He vaguely remembered that Eduardo had looked at him sympathetically, then dropped him spitefully when Mark had said that he didn't expect Eduardo to have any muscles in him.)

(It was only much later that Mark realized it hadn't really been a dream.)

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


Mark finally allowed himself a break when the stipend came in. He stopped taking pennies from the tip jar, and also started buying Eduardo sandwiches, to pay him back, even though he couldn't ever really pay back his debt to him.

But Eduardo kept coming every other night anyways, whenever he didn't have a morning class the next day.

And Eduardo would only go back to Eliot first if he knew for certain that Mark would go straight home after his shift ended at 8AM. 

It was annoying, really, but Mark decided he preferred that over watching Eduardo lose sleep because of him.

(One morning when they had forgotten to draw down the curtains, and sunlight woke Mark up, he found himself staring into Eduardo's sleeping face, feeling confused, irritated, but mostly, very sorry.)

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


Classes were the hardest to deal with. Mark kept dozing off, and his notes were a mess. There were unfinished sentences, squiggly lines that used to be words.

But what really baffled him the most when he was going through them for his test, was finding, a lazily cursive, blue-inked _Eduardo Saverin_.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


Thankfully Mark was allowed to retake his test before the next check-in, and if he showed that the failure had been a hiccup, a one-time rough patch, then he would still get financial support. His GPA was still above the line, after all.

Nights at the coffee shop were also a little more merciful too. People were doing last minute parties elsewhere before the end of the semester hit, so the place was mostly deserted. He took advantage of that to progress on TheFacebook, losing himself in coding the last bits and double-checking everything.

He planned to launch it before the first wave of final essays hit, so that he himself could get some time to work on the Art History essay he was supposed to be working on right about now.

But days and nights went by fast, the view outside the coffee shop turning from midnight navy to noon orange in the blink of an eye sometimes.

Eduardo would beg him to go to bed, and he would say _ten minutes_ , and Eduardo wouldn't have it at all, not even for five. He would pull Mark out of his seat, and, asking Christy to cover for him for a bit, would drag him to the door, across the street, up the stairs of the dorm (which was usually where Mark would give up at that point, with being difficult) and dump him on his bed. 

(This became more and more routine these days.

And somehow Mark would let Eduardo do this to him, even if Eduardo pulled him off before he could save his progress. 

Somehow, he liked the way Eduardo would hold his arm, the way sunlight lit his face, the way he would look at Mark when they were at a red light and say, "Mark, seriously, it's like you're a preschooler. Get a grip. Jesus.")

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


Liked the way Eduardo would look away, flushing in the shadow, when Mark pushed down his pant legs lazily, one by one, turning when he was finally undressed, to hug Eduardo's pillow to his chest, the way that made him feel safe.

Mark would find himself arching his back a little, closing his eyes, thinking about something silly like, how Eduardo looked in a coffee shop apron, talking in circles about weather and meteorology.

Eduardo in his most gentle, natural state.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


Because (and Mark wasn't entirely sure when it exactly it had started) Eduardo had looked a little off lately.

It wasn't the tired expression everyone sported this time round, but rather a more rueful one, like he was trying to enjoy last bits of freedom.

In many ways, it made sense.

Eduardo was graduating, after all.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


Mark didn't want to think about it if he could help it.

He didn't want to think about finding another bed to crash in, next year.

(He was attached to this one.)

(He really liked this one.)

(He would do anything to keep this one.)

He didn't want to think about it. But that wasn't how the human psyche worked, was it?

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


"I'm quitting," Eduardo said.

Mark looked up from his screen.

"I mean, exams are coming up, and my father wants me to focus. He— he's got me a paid internship, and I need to fly to New York every once in a while, to attend some meetings, too. It'll be a bit hectic, more so if I kept the job. And you know how he never approved of this job." It sounded like he had recited this about ten times in front of a mirror today.

Mark frowned mildly. "Okay."

Eduardo worried his lower lip. "You'll finally have me out of your hair."

Mark opened his mouth but couldn't find the right words to say. 

Eduardo smiled sadly. 

Mark mirrored Eduardo's smile sheepishly. "But you haven't taught me all the secrets of the trade yet."

Eduardo's smile turned into something softer, and he looked down, like he didn't want to show his face. Didn't want to show Mark how he was biting on his lip, swallowing hard words and overpowering feelings.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


Eduardo didn't stop coming though. He would, same time as Christy would since she started taking the morning shifts on MWFs, and he would also grab a discounted coffee to-go that Mark would make, hands still a little twitchy from all the coding.

"Just do a heart," Eduardo said, as he watched Mark tap the milk pitcher against the counter to burst the bubbles. Mark wiped the foam that got to his cheek.

"I'm not that cheap." 

Hearts were for beginners. 

 

"It wouldn't feel that way, you know," Eduardo murmured, eyes soft. Sad.

 

 

It wasn't until Mark was in Eduardo's bed, in Eduardo's hoodie, hugging the sheets smelling of Eduardo's prairie flower detergent, that he realized perhaps _that_ had been more than just a last secret of the trade.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


A week after that, Mark finally completed TheFacebook. He launched it from table 6b, at the corner of the coffee shop, fingers shaky from adrenaline, his vision tunneling and blurring, his skin tingling in a really good way.

 

 

He rested his head against the cool surface of the table, remembering distantly that he had to go to the Registrar's that afternoon, that he had to start on his Art History paper, that he missed Eduardo, that he needed to sanitize the espresso machine, that he needed to grab something to eat, and do the laundry, and go to the bank, and get a new umbrella, steal one from Dustin perhaps, fill in the end-of-term audit sheet, which he should get Chris to print for him.

 

 _Eduardo Saverin, Co-founder and CFO_ , Mark thought, thought of the way he had written Eduardo's name in blue ink, in one of his notebooks. Thought of the way he then typed it into the code so that it would appear on every page on his website. 

He'd never had more restful sleep, that morning.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


TheFacebook became really successful, really fast. It spread like wildfire, and before long, Mark could hear customers in the coffee shop telling each other 'Facebook me' before they leave.

He would lower his head, smile at himself, dimpling and feeling really proud. 

Things only got busier and trickier by the day to juggle between classes and TheFacebook. Mark had to prioritize the latter, but without going to classes, it was getting harder to maintain a satisfactory GPA in order to keep his financial aid. Which was the only thing keeping the servers up.

He hadn't really told anyone about this dilemma however; he was too proud to let it show. But somehow Dustin had figured out that Mark definitely needed a hand, and he had gone home one weekend with a copy of Perl for dummies, coming back on Monday with a huge grin and two thumbs up, saying, "dude, I can totally code now, I'm so ready, bring it on!"

(Except TheFacebook didn't run on Perl. 

Which was a devastating blow to Dustin, but he had only gone back to his dorm more determined than ever, to learn all programming language there ever was.)

Chris was roped in because he had come to Mark asking why the fuck both Mark and Dustin were skipping classes. Mark had asked Chris if he would like to join instead, pointedly ignoring Chris's question, not even looking up from his screen.

And then later on Mark found Andrew, an actual computer science major, who designed a logo that had really impressed Mark.

 

 

Things were manageable so far, but Mark knew that one day, his website was going to scale, and that it was only going to become bigger and bigger. 

Bigger than this world, bigger than his dreams.

 

It didn't take Eduardo too many days to see what the buzz was all about (which was surprising, considering he wasn't all that much of a computer person), but it did take a few more than Mark had expected for Eduardo to find out about the masthead.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


Christy and the other morning shift barista walked into the coffee shop just when Mark was finished updating the spreadsheet.

"Hey Mark. Eduardo's waiting for you outside. Busy night last night?"

Mark put the folders away, shrugged, and started packing his laptop. "The usual." After a beat, "see you, Christy."

Eduardo stood up on his feet when he saw Mark come out. There was nervous energy overflowing from him, which made Mark smile a bit sheepishly, which in turn made Eduardo smile so impossibly wide Mark didn't know what to do in response.

They made small talk about the weather and classes and news until they reached Eliot, going up the stairs two steps at a time. 

When the door finally clicked close behind Eduardo, he turned towards his bed, taking off his jacket in a seemingly nonchalant way. 

"So," Eduardo started, "why exactly… is my name on the masthead of your website?" He undid his tie slowly, "Co-founder and CFO?"

Mark shrugged, feeling mildly cheeky. "Did you want me to take that off? I suppose it was rude of me not to have asked first."

Eduardo scoffed. He took off his pants and slipped into pajama shorts. "Right. Except, you being courteous would actually be a shock?"

Mark smiled. He kicked off his shoes and wriggled out of his pants too, but instead of grabbing pajamas, he just grabbed one of Eduardo's button downs and slid his arms through them, flexing his back muscles in the process.

He knew Eduardo was watching, so he took his time deliberately to stretch across the bed.

"Mark," Eduardo crooned, looking at him with a gentle expression, climbing onto the bed too, the mattress dipping, hand on the sheets at a safe but close distance to Mark's bare legs.

Mark looked at Eduardo sleepily, looked at the way Eduardo's skin glowed majestically under the sun, at the way his hair fell lightly as he leaned in, at the way he seemed so happy, even though Mark still hadn't given a straight answer to his question.

Mark's answer was simple, really.

Eduardo had helped.

More than helped.

Putting his name on the masthead barely paid back anything.

"Mark. People are stopping me in the streets and congratulating me. Like I just got married or something, and I don't even know why, or even to _whom_ before Dustin showed me."

Mark smiled, his cheeks dimpling. "That's great."

Eduardo sighed. "Why is getting information out of you such an infuriating process?" He was gesturing with his hands, and it looked kind of funny.

Mark shrugged. "I mean, I think it's clear. You helped me a lot. If it wasn't for you, I would have never managed to launch TheFacebook. I would've probably died of hunger in the streets or prostituted myself to keep going."

Eduardo scrunched his nose. "I just share my single bed with you." He winced right after he said it, even though there was really no other way to put it.

"A fact that will forever puzzle the daylights out of Dustin," Mark replied, monotone but playful, before saying, a bit more seriously, "you know you've done more than that."

They stayed quiet for a while.

 

"I never knew you had dimples," Eduardo remarked, smiling a bit. He looked a little like he was about to cry though, looked like he wanted to say _I never knew you noticed_. He lowered his head, and then murmured, "Eduardo Saverin, co-founder and CFO," he chuckled at himself, "you have no idea what that’s going to mean to my father."

Mark smiled a bit more gently. "Sure I do." 

 

  
  


 

Eduardo looked up at him, flushing up. He had an expression Mark couldn't really define. He was clearly really happy – but there was a hint of sadness, of ruefulness. Mark didn't really understand why it was there.

He sort of didn't want it there either. Mark stared back solemnly, frowning a little, as if to ask telepathically, _what's wrong?_

Eduardo smiled at that, scratching his nape, clearly nervous. 

"Everything's really good, Mark," Eduardo said.

There was an implicit 'but' hiding behind Eduardo's words, and Mark didn't know what to expect.

"But I— I don't know if I can—"

Mark pushed himself up and forward, laying his hand on Eduardo's before looking him in the eye.

"Wardo, yes, you can," Mark said, flatly. Gently. "Wardo, I need you."

Eduardo looked back, sheepish, breathing hard, and then he nodded, nodded like that was all that he needed to hear. Nodded like that was enough.

  
  
 

Mark knew it wasn't enough.

  
  
 

Mark wasn't really sure what made him do it right then and there. He wasn't really sure when he had even started seeing Eduardo that way. He just knew he did. 

And he knew he had to be the one to make the first move.

Because Eduardo wouldn't ever be the one to do it. Because Eduardo was the type to be satisfied with just the bare minimum, because even if Eduardo was great at chess and knowing when to risk everything to win big, he really didn't know how to apply it to life, to the things and people he wanted. He was the type who was always more scared of losing everything instead.

So Mark had to do it.

Mark had to help.

He leaned forward, shut his eyes, and before Eduardo could turn away, kissed him on the corner of his mouth.

Eduardo gasped, and Mark kissed that too.

Kissed every little sound, every little uncertain whimper Eduardo was making. Kissed him to memorize the shape of Eduardo's lips. Kissed his own name falling from Eduardo's mouth. Kissed the way Eduardo kissed back. 

 

  
  


 

There was a nice fuzzy feeling deep in Mark's gut.

They were now lying face to face on their sides, legs tangled, fingers intertwined, noses bumping. 

Eduardo didn't have that sad look on his face anymore.

Mark had kissed it all away, only stopping when there was nothing left of it, not even a shadow.

Though honestly, he didn't ever really want to stop.

 

  
  


 

Eduardo kissed him to sleep, and when they woke up together at half past 4 in the afternoon, they made out more, languidly, passionately, touched each other more, explored each other until time either stopped or never stopped.

 

  
  


 

It was after a few days of just that (like they were on some kind of honeymoon all this time) that they started talking about the future, started talking about what they wanted to do, who they wanted to be with.

TheFacebook was going to expand beyond Harvard, and that wasn't just speculation anymore when they successfully made it to the other colleges in Boston.

Eduardo said he was going to quit his internship on the first day but use the opportunity to find investors in New York.

(Maybe his dad would invest, for all he knew.)

On the other hand, Mark planned to drop out of college, really work on the website, alongside Dustin and Andrew and the rest.

(He said, maybe they should move to New York.)

 

  
  


 

(Because for Mark, his home was Eduardo's bed, his home was wherever Eduardo was, his home was Eduardo. Period.)

  
  


 

Eduardo kissed him gently, chastely, laughing a little against Mark's mouth. 

 

  
  


 

Said that it would mean the world, if he did.

  
  


* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave a comment and/or kudos if you liked it? #reviveTSN2k19. 
> 
>  
> 
> 1\. Dialing in a grinder means to adjust the grinder with the dial in order to get the right kind of grind you want, the right amount you want. This doesn't usually need to be done too often, especially since the one in the coffee shop was only meant for espresso beans.
> 
> 2\. Dustin might not be the roommate who went back home to study Perl for dummies, but I thought it would be cute if it was him (this is a real anecdote, but Mark didn't mention which roommate exactly). I also think he's genius enough to master programming languages in a very short amount of time.
> 
> 3\. Title from Breathe by Lauv.


End file.
